


Islands

by thalassashells



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, axel mentioned in passing, but this is about namine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3943795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalassashells/pseuds/thalassashells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naminé knew the beach well. (Super short drabble I wrote on a whim one time.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Islands

For a while, Axel and Naminé ran. 

Their home was wherever the Organization wasn't. Wherever the number of dusks were low and they couldn’t feel the creeping cold of other members down their spines was suitable enough. ("As long as we're free, right?" Axel had laughed, and for once in her life Naminé agreed with him.) It was clock towers (however they hurt), cities, graveyards, and cathedrals (however many memories the carved walls brought back). 

And beaches.

Naminé knew the beach well. She knew it from the endless pictures that had poured onto her empty pages as she wrenched the images from Sora’s memory piece by little piece, and somewhere deep in the recesses of her own-no, Kairi's-memories. (She wondered if anything would ever belong to her.) 

It made her love it, and it made her hate it.

She rested on the docks with a breeze in her face welcoming her and trying to push her away all at once and a sun warming her and trying to burn her down. She thought about how Axel was hiding, cooped up in the wreckage of a tree house, because he had no roots here at all. Maybe she was the same. When they weren't there, she ached, but it was better than feeling like a puzzle piece from a different box shoved into the island’s own. 

But it was beautiful, and every time they go back her urge to run run run run gets a little less intense, her feet sink a little more comfortably into the wet sand, her eyes can meet the horizon without tears pricking in them.

It wasn't her home yet, but neither were white walls and grey towers.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be completely honest with you I've just barely taken up writing again recently after multiple years of not touching it, so I fully expect this to be rusty. Despite that, it's my favorite of the little drabbles I've managed to get out. So. Enjoy?


End file.
